


and when he's gone (the river's just a river)

by molotovgirl



Category: American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love, i love writing fic at three am during finals week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 19:46:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5428424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/molotovgirl/pseuds/molotovgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hamilton's wedding night brings unrequited feelings to a head for John Laurens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and when he's gone (the river's just a river)

**Author's Note:**

> three am during finals week is turning out to be very productive

_And may you always be satisfied._

__

Angelica Schuyler's well-intentioned words swim hazily in the back of John Laurens’ skull as he takes careful steps along a rain-slicked boulevard beside the river. The Hamilton's wedding party has wound to a close behind him, friends scattering to the four corners of the city as the newlyweds go––presumably–– giggling off to the bedroom. John is glad that he had elected to leave before Alexander swept Eliza over the threshold. He had known that he’d be unable to stand it: the way he looks at her, the way he cups her soft cheek with one gentle hand before kissing her––to see Alexander touch another turns his stomach. He has always found jealousy an unattractive trait, something petty and childish, but the very thought of Alexander’s hands mapping a new expanse of foreign flesh turns his own skin numb.

__

 

 

 

_Satisfied._

__

Eliza will be satisfied––perhaps––John thinks. The less-fiery of the Schuyler sisters, Eliza will keep the marriage bed warm, will bring him cups of strong tea when he writes all night and forgets to eat, will quietly bear him many children. John has never been under the delusion that he and Alexander could share a life together––never, at least, in the same way that Alexander and Eliza will. But it was one thing to talk of the future in hushed tones in the candle-lit barracks, Alexander murmuring breathless promises against John’s bare skin. It was another to see the future become the present before your own eyes.

“We’ll never be apart,” Alexander had whispered, tracing invisible patterns on John’s back. “The universe has ordained it.”

“We’ll be apart someday,” John returned, shivering up against Alexander’s touch. “It’s not as if we’ll be married.”

Alexander’s palm had flattened, moving downwards, sliding down the small of John’s back.

“Even so.”

__

 

 

 

 

_Satisfied._

__

And now here, the rain-slick pavement and the grey murk of the river, the streetlights sputtering towards their dawn extinguishment. John thinks of Alexander, of him making love to Eliza––and he thinks, his gut twisting, that perhaps what he and Alexander did was never making love. Every move they made was edged by some unnamed, desperate feeling, the endless burning desire to feel alive. John wonders, briefly and painfully, if Alexander will ever touch Eliza with that same fire in his hands.

__

He doubts it.

_****  
_

 


End file.
